So much for the listing fee and my perfect feedback rating.Sweat's dripping into my eyes, and I can't do anything about it. Thank heavens I remembered to put on deodorant. The air's so stagnant and thick that I'd probably be stuck in a cloud of my own stink otherwise.Then again, maybe that's blood and not sweat. Feels a little thick for sweat. Guess it doesn't really matter. It all burns.Speaking of burning - I know it's summer, but this heat is fucking ridiculous. Maybe I should demand to see someone about it when I get to the pearly gates. It's bad enough that I'm laying here dying, but do I have to simmer in my own juices while I'm at it?Or maybe I'm going to the other place, and this is a preview of coming attractions. Thrills, chills, and spills. Red-hot summer action. I did covet my neighbor's wife - well, girlfriend. I coveted her a lot. Must have done a pretty good job of coveting her, because she moved in with me.She's going to be so pissed when I'm not home by two. I'd. The bass guitar is the drunk uncle wedding dance of musical instruments. Let's be honest since "Superstition" the only bass player most people can name of is that Fly/Flea/Bug/Stick Insect chap from Red Hot Chili Peppers. This guy was in full "look at me" mode, strumming solos between song that made the whole evening feel like an episode of a nineties American sitcom. He would occasionally elongate a note and move the sting slightly so it would change up and down. Roll a key up, elongated note with a wobble and roll a key down. Not the most improvised set but getting a tad tedious. After a while I noticed his attentions were fixed, transfixed on a woman sat in the crowd and the elongated wobble would be accompanied by a look, smile and even a wink. The woman would smile back politely but look away embarrassed during the next song. A while later she and I were at the bar and I had to ask..."Are you okay? That bass player is creepy as. Would you like me to have a word with the manager.
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